Rusty Angels
by EchidnaHazard
Summary: Based on the song by Black Sabbath of the same name.... RealaNiGHTS songfic


Rusty Angels Songfic by Echidna Hazard Lyrics by Black Sabbath  
  
[They say you came from heaven but I know that's not the truth,  
  
Cause I don't think an angel could look anything like you,  
  
Your eyes are made from sapphires and your heart is made from stone,  
  
You gotta be the closest thing to hate I've ever known]  
  
I dart through the air swift as a specter, moving with the grace of a swan and the predatory air of a falcon, and feel the wind caress my pale face as I watch the ground far below, feeling...what? Detachment? Apathy? How can I feel a non-feeling? ...Ah, the wonders of paradox.  
  
I slow just a little in the air, turn a swooping curve with both clawed hands outstretched, observing the rubious sky with its onyx clouds slowly pass me by above.  
  
Why is the emptiness in my heart punctuated by these odd little intervals of pain? How is it fair that no pleasure ever stays there, but pain comes and goes as it pleases?  
  
I've tried to grasp what I'm missing, but it would help if I had a clue what it was. I've never felt this before, not when I was serving my master, not while I was fighting my archenemy Nights, or even while I waited for a hundred years in the dark temple that seemed to be my crypt for all eternity.  
  
[And if I didn't know better I'd say you had come alone to the party, oh yeah.  
  
The light is always shining, but you swear that it's gone black,  
  
The tide is always turning, but you're never looking back,  
  
If I didn't know better I'd say times were pretty bad]  
  
My feet touch the ground gently as I land. This is as good a place as any to rest; nondescript, barren wasteland, a blackened, twisted tree here and there, dark murky water reflecting dimly the sky of blood. I kneel by the pool, gazing in at myself. That scarred face with the cruel thin smile responds to my eyes as a panther might leap on weakened prey; it presses the attack. The smile is mocking me.  
  
I've ruled Nightopia with my iron fist for as long as I can remember. I've turned it into a devil's paradise, and anyone who objects to my rule doesn't live very long.  
  
But then...nobody can get close to me now. The fear stops them dead if my minions don't do it first.  
  
[Because Rusty Angels they can't fly,  
  
Rusty Angels gonna die, yeah,  
  
Rusty Angels they can't fly,  
  
Rusty Angels gonna die, gonna die.]  
  
My closed fist dashes the water, dashes the reflection, sends ripples out through the polluted water and back again, and I draw my legs up closer to my body. I should be back at my castle, sitting on my throne, stroking my cat. Living the life of tyrannous luxuries I've earned by being Wizeman's unfaltering lackey. That's what bothers me most about the reflection...those slashes on my eyes.  
  
No matter. All ancient history now. None of it affects me anymore; I never let it touch me.  
  
The blows didn't hurt after a few days, though the bruises showed unless I made the conscious choice and covered them.  
  
But my soul has a bruise I can't ever hope to hide, I don't think, though I've eliminated everyone who might have displayed an interest. I've slaughtered those people who might have cared, because I might have healed.  
  
If nothing else, I'm sure I can't be healed now.  
  
[The gifts you bring are fire, and your dreams they turned to dust,  
  
Your flying days are over, and your wings have turned to rust  
  
If I didn't know better, I'd say all you had is lost]  
  
My eyes trail upward from the pool to the landscape. Brown, with the occasional black smudge of scorched earth. Not a habitable place for anyone, be they 'Maren, 'Topian or Dreamer.  
  
The air scours the lungs of anyone foolish enough to breathe it, filled with poisons only the strongest Nightmaren can withstand. If Clawz, my cat, were to leave the castle, we'd find him dead or dying within a week. That's why nobody can leave the castle but me. I don't want anyone else to die, none of the ones I have some dim caring for. When Wizeman died it was like a puppeteer cut the strings but the marionette couldn't walk, could only crawl. I did crawl, because there was nobody to tell me how to do otherwise.  
  
My realm is dying; it doesn't take a genius to see that much. The Ideyas died with Wizeman, and no Dreamers can cross the boundary to my castle. They'd never survive the trip.  
  
That's why the land is perishing like a fish in the desert...drying up. The Nightmarens who are left don't dare blame me, though they resent confinement in the castle.  
  
Though they resent me.  
  
[Because Rusty Angels they can't fly,  
  
Rusty Angels gonna die, yeah,  
  
Rusty Angels they can't fly,  
  
Rusty Angels gonna die, gonna die.]  
  
There's a sound behind me and I turn--I don't think I can believe what I'm seeing, but my eyes haven't lied to me before. Maybe the poisons really do affect me, after all. A hallucination?  
  
Nights. Here? In this place...? How did he find me after I'd searched high and low for him?  
  
"You!" I hiss, vocal inflection pained. I can't disguise my voice, never had a need, there was no one to lie to.  
  
"Hello, Reala." His voice is just as soft as I remember, something inherently safe and warm that speaks of a comfort, a mother's arms.  
  
I hate it so much.  
  
I stand and watch his expression change. I haven't been altered much, we're still the same height and the dark red and black jester costume still clashes with his. He looks a bit nervous now; how I like it.  
  
"Come to laugh at me." It isn't a question, but he answers it anyway, readily.  
  
"No."  
  
I take a deep breath, remembering the ache. What is wrong with me, anyway? I'm not weak enough to feel this, this abandonment. I suddenly want non- feeling back very badly.  
  
"Then why?"  
  
His smile is as warm as his voice, his eyes sparkling with the pretty little glimmer they have that contrasts so sharply against my green eyed glare, cold as steel.  
  
"Reala... I've come to ask if you want a second chance."  
  
[If you swallow just a little pride, you might find a little love inside,  
  
Open up and let somebody in, 'cause if you need somebody,  
  
You know it's not a sin.]  
  
"A second chance??" I spit, venomously, and he startles back. Let him think I'm livid. Truth is I'm so apathetic there's nothing I can feel anyway, let alone something as draining as fury. My emotions hang in tatters from a window broken and grimy.  
  
And as these thoughts pass through my mind, he sees and knows. He steps forward and I freeze, every muscle locking up within, trapping my screaming brain in a statue's body. His warm arms encircle mine and I stiffen, unsure, afraid, suddenly feeling so very weak.  
  
Before I realize what I'm doing, my head is on his shoulder and he's stroking my back and head soothingly, and it feels...good.  
  
"Nights..." it's as far as I get; my voice fades away, the terrible weakness stealing it and all power in my limbs in one fell swoop.  
  
"Shh. I know you're unhappy, Reala." He murmurs, and I latch onto his words. His tongue must be forked...and that's rich, coming from me. "I know you feel like nobody loves you."  
  
I inhale sharply, pull back, and he lets me go, watching my face with almost parental control. I know his eyes are fixed on my scars. He knows what I went through; he did too, though his face shows none of the blemishes.  
  
"I hate this." I whisper bitterly, taking a step away. The water seeps up into my shoe, icily cold, and serves to shock me back into awareness, "Nights, leave. This is my kingdom."  
  
"This is no kingdom." He snaps, showing rare passion, "Please, Reala. Come with us. Nightopia can heal itself if you just--"  
  
"NO!" I scream with vehemence, "I don't want to! I don't want help! Go away! The poison..."  
  
He looks puzzled, and my heart clenches. He doesn't know about the air.  
  
"You're dead." I whisper, suddenly more alone than ever. Even if I go with him...I'll be as alone as ever. He'll be a dead 'Maren in less than seven days.  
  
I turn, tears filling my eyes, tracing down the scars as he stares in confusion, and I launch myself into the air, headed for my castle. I know what I was missing now, and knowing doesn't help at all.  
  
And now I'll be missing it for the rest of my life.  
  
[Rusty Angels they can't fly, Rusty Angels gonna die, yeah,  
  
Rusty Angels they can't fly, no, Rusty Angels gonna die,  
  
Gonna die, yeah, you can't fly, oh no,  
  
Gonna die, oh yeah, you can't fly, oh no.] 


End file.
